Spectrum
by Nikki Altava
Summary: Lost/Unwound Future AU. This is a tale of a politician who better watch his back; a Professor who's lost too many; his daughter who's lost enough; and a young man who has a plan. This is not a tale of love. It is a tale of revenge.


**A/N: I've attempted to write stories about my character about ten times, always wanting to tell this particularly part of her life. So I decided to maybe just do it, even though I haven't actually written anything in about six months, and deleted all my fanfiction stories in a bid never to write again, and to focus more on my education. Yeah... That didn't work out. **

**I don't own Professor Layton. Y'know. Otherwise this wouldn't really be a fanfiction. **

**Enjoy! :)**

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><p><strong>Spectrum<strong>

Chapter One

If there was anything Lilly Layton was certain of, it was that waitressing was not a suitable career choice for her.

It was eleven o'clock, and yet the bistro still bustled with more life than the brunette had ever seen. Drinks clinked as toasts were given, shrieks of laughter rang throughout the candle-lit room and jazz music echoed in from the band in the corner. The light was dim, but the atmosphere so vivid that the uninterested young woman was nothing but plagued with fatigue. The flirtatious, yet somehow childish, smile requested in the job description made her face ache and looked anything but realistic, but the business men, who had came along with friends, their wives (or mistresses), didn't notice. It was never their faces they looked at.

The central London based establishment was for the upper class, elite and wealthy, and Lilly Layton was anything but that. After leaving school, she had been left with several options:

The first being marriage, which was the most ridiculous idea of all. Many of her friends were already engaged, and although they seemed happy when she met them for tea, she could tell that they were fed up, terrified and trapped. Their smiles were even faker than hers as she delivered drinks as a waitress, when their husbands to be entered the room. They had left homes and the strict thumb of their parents, expecting freedom and enjoyment, but had found nothing except even stricter boundaries and rules. If she ever married, it would be for love- and not for a long time, anyway.

The next option was to continue living with her Father- which was completely out of the question. It wasn't that she didn't like her Father- in fact the two got along rather well- but she didn't particularly cherish the idea of remaining in the flat she'd lived in her entire life. The flat held many stories, and not all did Lilly find happy and pleasant. Obviously, if she were to stay, Lilly could work and pay a percentage of the bills, as well as helping her Father with his work as a private investigator (not as a Professor of Archaeology at the local University) as she'd done for the past few years... But why when she could do this and live on her own, too. She was independent, or rather, wished she was. There was nothing wrong with wanting to stay, of course, but there was nothing wrong with wanting to leave, either. And so, that was what she'd done.

So, she took the third option: To rent a flat of her own, and get a job. At the time, waitressing seemed like the best option. She could have become a live-in Nanny, which was just as preposterous as the idea of getting married to her; she could have become a cleaner, but neither did she particularly want to clean up other people's mess; she could have gone into nursing, but that included more education and training, also something that the young woman didn't want to do; she could have become a secretary, but working eight hours a day, pretending to respect a man who would most likely be as vulgar as the patrons in the Bistro, did not seem like a pleasant option either.

That had left one thing: waitressing, and at the time of choosing her job path, she could only see benefits. The hours would be good, and still give her time to enjoy her day and some nights, she would earn extra money through tips, she would get to meet people, and maybe even have fun doing it. However, after not even a fortnight of working in the Bistro, Lily could only see flaws. Her nights were late, and sometimes she had to be in at seven the next day to help set up or help at the adjoining restaurant, patrons only gave tips if they were trying to convey a subliminal message, customers rarely wanted to talk and far too many were rude, dismissive, or alternatively (but much, much worse) paid too much attention, and there was never any fun to be had whilst working. After working at the Bistro for now nearly six months, she was keeping an eye out for a new, better job, but nothing that Lilly had the knowledge or skills to do and would be better than working at the Bistro ever appeared. She'd hit a dead end.

Returning to the bar after taking a tray of martinis over to a group of ungrateful business men, she sighed and ignored the trail of wolf-whistles from a nearby table. Placing the metal tray down on the side to place the next load of drinks on it, she looked over Sarah, one of the other waitresses at the Bistro, who was shaking a cocktail mixer.

"Be grateful for it," Sarah reminded in a firm voice before Lilly could say anything or give another unappreciative gesture. "Some girls get laughed at and mocked. You could have it worse."

Lilly couldn't help but smile at the blonde waitress. She was the smartest and prettiest person she knew, and Lilly almost envied her. Upon becoming a member of staff at the Bistro, Sarah was appointed Lilly's mentor and was to teach her the drinks, and how to interact with the customers, and so on. It hadn't taken long as Lilly was indeed a fast learner, and the two got along well, however Lilly classed her more as a colleague than a friend. Sarah, though friendly and chatty, was rather self-absorbed, and told the other waitresses endless stories about her sociology degree (which she was in her second year of studying), wealthy family and charming fiancé, over and over again. Lilly was certain Sarah didn't even know her last name, whereas Lilly could recite all of Sarah's siblings, cousins and in-laws entire names.

"No, but it could be better," Lilly grimaced in response.

"Everyone could have it better," Sarah pointed out briskly, a teasing smile curling up across her face, as she poured the contents of the shaker into a glass and onto a tray and lifted up the gate to leave the bar. "See to that gentleman over there, would you?" Sarah jerked her head to the left. "He's been staring at the wall for the past twenty minutes holding an empty scotch glass."

"Right," Lilly affirmed, before turning away from the blonde, and looking over to the direction Sarah had gestured towards.

Very few patrons ever sat by the bar; many came in groups and hovered around tables, or by the stage to appreciate (or sometimes not) the music from the band, pianist or singers. The Bistro was seen as a place for gatherings, and so it was rare to see a customer at the bar, alone. That was usually what pubs were for. Yet, looking over, she saw a man, who looked to be nineteen at the youngest, twenty one at the oldest, lean against the oak counter, with an empty glass in his hands, and his eyes fixed on the cream painted walls. He dressed like many of the patrons, a black tuxedo but without a tie. His hair was almost hazel, and had been styled with so much product it fit around his head quite tightly, even though it was clear his hair was thick. Looking at his face, Lilly saw a rather thoughtful look on the young man's face. Regret, perhaps? But there was frustration, too.

Sarah had taught her exactly how to play this. Those alone were easier to sell more drinks to, and the more you sold, hopefully the bigger the tip, and the happier, more charming waitress, also meant a bigger tip. After a quick dusting off her black pinafore and a straightening of her white apron, Lilly forced a cheeky smile to spread across her cheeks, took a damp cloth from the sink and made her way across the bar.

"Do you want me to fill that up for you?" Lilly asked, leaning across the opposite side of the bar from the man, as she wiped a perfectly clean spot on the counter.

The man's eyes flickered towards the young girl, and his lip's curved into a smile.

"Why, yes. If you wouldn't mind," he replied, holding out his glass. He had a rather smooth voice, Lilly noted, even though it was rather quiet- or was that just the loudness of the Bistro? He spoke with the same upper class accent as all the other customers, but his voice was kinder, softer.

With a knowing smile, Lilly stood straighter and turned around to take a bottle and fill the glass.

"Large, I presume?" she asked, looking down as the rusty red liquid trickled out slowly.

"Well, I suppose so. If you insist," the man chuckled softly. His eyes watched her carefully, studying her plastic smile. He raised an eyebrow at her expression, but resumed to his previous smile when she back up at him.

"Anything else, Sir?" Lilly politely queried, as she took hold of the cloth and wrung it out over the sink.

"No need to worry about formalities like that, I'm sure," he chuckled again. "Here, what's your name?"

"No? Very well..." Lilly nodded, returning back to where the man was and perching herself on a stall opposing him. "But you didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine," the man pointed out, an amused expression on his face,as he took a sip of his drink. "But, no thank you."

"Well, I asked first," Lilly proved, propping up an elbow and resting her hand against her chin, copying how the women in magazines posed. That had been a tip from Sarah. "Who's asking?"

Yet, another chuckle escaped his lips. "My name's Clive. Clive Dove," he introduced himself, extending his hand. "I'm a journalist for The Daily Rose. And, you?"

"Lilly," she answered, shaking his hand. It was warm, then again, she had been carrying around glasses containing ice for the past five hours.

He raised an eyebrow. "Ah, now, that's not fair," he teased as he sat his hand back down on the counter.

"What's not, Mr Dove?"

"Please, call me Clive."

"Pardon. What's not fair, Clive?"

"I gave you my full name. I expect yours in return."

Lilly sighed, laughing quietly. "Very well," she went on, knowing there was always a risk with giving out her name. Sarah, in fact, had told her to use a fake name when working. Many regular patrons were completely adamant that Sarah's name was Amelia, and Lilly's Victoria. "My name's Lilly Layton."

"Layton? I recognise that name..." The man wrinkled his nose in thought.

Lilly froze. Many did indeed recognise that last name. Not because it was common, but because of her Father. The "Real Life Sherlock Holmes" one newspaper named him, after his most recent investigation of the mysteries surrounding the town of Folsense.

"I get that a lot. Professor Layton, you're thinking of, yes?" Lilly questioned, a much softer smile was now forming across her features.

"Yes! That's it. One of my work colleagues is a big fan and has written many articles based on his discoveries and expeditions. Are you- err- related to him, by any chance?" Clive questioned, raising an eyebrow in what appeared to be curiosity.

"No, no!" Lilly laughed- she knew she'd already gone too far by giving away her name."No, I get asked it a lot, though."

"I can imagine. He's rather well known nowadays, isn't he?"

"Well, I suppose so," Lilly quickly replied. "To be perfectly honest with you, archaeology isn't really my area. I wouldn't know about him if we didn't share a surname."

"Archaeology?"

"Yes, I understand that's what he is a Professor of."

"Really? Are you sure? Why would a professor of archaeology also work as a private inspector?" Clive frowned slightly. "Are you sure that's what you've heard?"

Lilly swallowed, rather nervously. She'd always thought of herself as a good liar, but was feeling rather caught out. Or was she just paranoid?

"Well, it's just what I've heard. Your guess is as good as mine. I-if not better," she forced a smile, although a sickening feeling twisted in her stomach. She'd been warned by many, particularly her Godmother, Brenda, about some of men she may find herself meeting. He was just a customer, surely, and she'd told him nothing revealing about her. Just her name. It was stories from others that was now making her panic... Or was it the pressing look in his eyes? Or maybe that's just a trait of his as a journalist?

Clive seemed to notice something in her behaviour as he soon furrowed his brow in concern.

"Are you all right? Have I unsettled you in some way?" he asked in alarm. "You look rather... Worried."

Lilly took a deep breath, and shook her head, her normal (and real, not her work) smile returned to her face. She was being ridiculous. Everything was perfectly fine. He was just an ordinary customer.

"Not at all, Clive. It's just rather late, and I'm tired. That's what happens when you work the evening shift," she remarks with a small laugh, before quickly changing the subject. "So, err, what brings you here this evening?"

"I felt like trying some place new. I prefer cafés to places like this, really. I can't always hear myself think in here," he replied, giving her a faint smile. "Not to insult your workplace, of course."

"Not at all. It's, err, very noisy in here at times, I agree," Lilly nodded. She'd had to visit a doctor after joining the Bistro due to the headaches the music and shrill voices were causing, but she didn't say anything out of fear of a colleague hearing her and reporting her.

Clive held up his hand to her, gesturing for him to wait as he swallowed down what was left of his drink. Patiently, Lilly smiled and took the glass from him once he'd finished.

"Another?" She offered.

"Please."

"Lilly!" the voice of another waitress from the other end of the bar called. "New group at table twelve. Can you go and get them started?"

Lilly sighed deeply, before quickly calling a reply to the other waitress, and then turning back to Clive.

"Sorry, but I have to get that. It was nice meeting you. Enjoy your evening," Lilly gave him her professional smile again. That was another tip from Sarah: if you slip up and accidentally act too friendly, finish with a more formal goodbye, as it cuts off any ideas they may have about you.

"You, too, Lilly. Perhaps I'll see you again?" Clive smiled back, looking hopeful at his request.

"Err-Well. I'm here a lot of the time. Maybe you should come here more often," Lilly suggested, giving him his drink, before taking two steps away, and towards the bar exit.

"Then maybe I will."

"I look forward to it."

And without waiting for a reply, Lilly left for table twelve.

-X-X-X-

Like many of her working hours, the next two hours went very slowly for Lilly. She hovered around tables, took orders, pretended to flirt, smiled, cleaned tables and made drinks, all while looking up at the lock every five minutes praying for her shift to end. It was one o'clock when it finally ended, but the Bistro was still far from closed. But Lilly was glad to be going home (even if she did still have two twenty minute bus rides to go through, which at this time on a Friday night, would be very unpleasant, indeed).

"Oh, Lilly! I almost forgot," the same waitress who had asked her to serve table twelve earlier on that night called.

"Hmm?" Lilly looked over in confusion as she stepped out towards the back door, after just leaving the staff locker rooms. Now her shift was over, she had let loose her dark brown hair from the usual bun she wore whilst working, and had changed into her usual black skirt and purple blouse. She was exhausted, and desperate to get home, and looked over at her colleague with little interest.

"That fella you were servin' earlier. He asked me to give you this. Ya' must have caught his eye, eh?" The much more bubbly waitress (she was new, and Lilly had yet to learn her name) grinned as she handed Lilly a small, folded up paper note.

"Uhh. It appears so..." Lilly murmured as she took the paper.

"Jeeze, girl, you look shattered. How many hours did ya' work today?" the waitress asked with a small giggle. If Lilly wasn't so tired, she would have wondered how someone managed to be so enthusiastic at this time.

"Erm... Seven," Lilly replied, squinting down as she unfolded the scrap of paper to read its content.

The sickening feeling in her stomach returned as soon as her eyes feel upon the page. She froze. She woke up. The waitress' voice blurred away.

"Lilly?" The waitress raised her voice slightly, and snapped her fingers. Lilly jumped.

"Hmm...?" Lilly murmured again. She barely even looked at the waitress.

"I asked when you're in next, Missus!" She laughed loudly. If Lilly wasn't in so much shock- wasn't so distracted- she would have winced at her laughter. "You really do need to go home, don't ya'? Cor' you're as white as a sheep!"

"Yeah... Yes, I-erm... I better be going," Lilly didn't even try and force a smile.

The new waitress said nothing more, and Lilly heard her footsteps echo back up the stairs to where the bar was,in the back of her mind,but she saw nothing. Her eyes could not leave the note.

_Miss Lillian Layton, _

_I know who you are. I have some information about your Father- and I know you will be interested in it. Meet me at Jones' Cafe on Meredith Close, Gressenheller, at 1pm tomorrow afternoon. I assure you, it is the uttermost importance that you attend. You will otherwise regret doing so, and I promise, I am trying to help. _

_Your friend, _

_Clive Dove_

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><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed it!It would be really nice if you wrote a quick review (or long, that's good to)! :) <strong>

**Nikki~~**


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